selfinflicted wounds
by Anthy Dusky
Summary: this is what happens when i get depressed. i don't know why, but nny's all pissed at himself. i dunno.


self-inflicted wounds (a really disturbing jthm fic) by anthy dusky  
  
note: last time i checked i wasn't jhonen vasquez. stranger things have happened, but we can bet on a "no" for now. naturally, the characters in here by no means belong to me. dear lord.  
  
note2: i was really depressed when i wrote this so forgive me.i know already that it doesn't make sense but oh fucken well. sorry.  
  
i'm going to start now.  
  
  
  
chapter i: flashback  
  
the deep red blood flowed slowly across the basement floor. a wave of lightheadedness overwhelmed nny-he sat heavily on the floor. all 96 pounds of him was shaking; a sickly looking 16-year-old boy who before this night had never killed another human being before. "my name isn't pussy, its johnny," he whispered weakly. no response. so he was truly dead-the star quarter back *clichés-god knows i love them* could now be spoken of in the past tense. the empty shell of his burly body fed the growing river of blood from a massive head wound and a huge gash in his throat. nny leapt suddenly off the floor, reeling from the speed he created. the blood was surging towards him now-he knew that if it touched him, any part of him. shut up! don't- quiet!! -let- shut the fuck up!!! -it- no more!!!! -touch--!  
  
chapter ii: dissociate  
  
in the blink of an eye nny was back to the present. every time this happened panic ensued-was what just happened real? was anything?-but he clung desperately to his bloodied arm no and knew that his memories had truly transpired. nny studied his handiwork. with a heavy sigh he rose from the floor, slightly dizzy from loss of blood. a profound emptiness swelled like a sick balloon in his chest. "god, i wish anyone would stop by. even the fucking mailman, for christ's sake." a low hissing voice crept forth from the shadows, a voice with an icy chill. "now i think we both realize that isn't a possibility." "shut the fuck up, psychodoughboy," nny whispered weakly. "look at your arm, johnny c., at your blood," the voice hissed from its styrofoam encasement. "dark, thick, clouded. it is exactly like everyone else's. clouded with those dirty feelings, those primitive emotions you humans let rule your lives. that dark, shit colored liquid that flows through your veins is a much a part of you as i am." "i said shut up," nny whispered, feeling his control slip away. "oh, you poor wretch-you must realize that i speak only the truth. i hate to see you like this-but-there is no other way to free yourself from this filthy existence." nny followed his gaze to the gun. "noooo." protested another voice. the voice was weasel-like, one you would attribute to an evil clown. "johnny, i hate it when you do this to yourself. why do you ever listen to him? your emotions a part of you that you can't deny! who says that's wrong? no one but that pathetic, ozone- unfriendly pessimistic bastard! you are a living being-except that and be happy!" "be still, mr.fuck! you deceive him. polluting the poor boy's mind with your hideous disease!" "johnny, you're in pain now, i know that. i am, after all, a part of you. it's very understandable for you to be hurt. but you can't die! not yet! what about everyone else that has hurt you? your pain is not yet avenged! what about that cheerleading squad-they spat on you and half of them still breathe!" "oh, my poor boy, if i could i would give you the peace in death that i could not give you in life.but i am mere styrofoam. you can, though; you can free yourself from everything that holds you! just pull that trigger and everything goes away!" "wait!" came still another voice. this was one high in pitch and sweet, like a small child could imagine coming from his bear. "shut up, you two!" "shut your fucking mouth, nailbunny." "johnny no! they're both using you! they don't care about you! don't listen to them!" feeling rather ill, nny threw some sharp things in his bag. "i'm gonna go finish off the cheerleading squad." no answer.  
  
chapter iii: fracture  
  
"oh nny! thank god you're home! i got so worried-" nny blocked out bunny's words and walked dripping across the room, not even bothering to shut the door. he accidentally caught his reflection in the old broken mirror. the many faceted glass caught and threw the light at odd angles. what a strange analogy, he thought, fractured, like i am. it almost gives the illusion that i am actually alive. nailbunny was still rambling. "-at least change out of those wet clothes before you get sick-" for a moment nny entertained the notion of inflicting physical violence upon it, but he knew that the bunny only had his best interest in mind.  
  
chapter iv: loathe "i don't think i can take much more of this--!" a glass full of paint water was launched across the room and shattered against the wall with a loud smash. "johnny? johnny, what's wrong?" nail bunny cried frantically. no response. the shattering of the glass had not satisfied nny's rage. a dark hatred, full of pain, fear, and self-loathing took hold of his heart like a shadow. like a man possessed he slammed his left hand on the table and seized a hammer. the only sound in the room other than the incessant *thunk* was nail bunny's small cries of despair.  
  
*endnote: jesus christ. *owies* my head hurts...maybe i should be institutionalized. 


End file.
